


Neverland

by Sam_Haine



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Porn, Angst with a Happy Ending, Billy Hargrove Being an Asshole, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove is Bad at Communicating, Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington Smut, Blood and Violence, Child Abuse, Crying, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extortion, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Neglect, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Billy Hargrove, Sad Steve Harrington, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Violence, Shameless Smut, Steve Harrington Angst, Steve Harrington Deserves Love, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington Is a Mess, Steve Harrington Needs Love, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:08:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26522674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Haine/pseuds/Sam_Haine
Summary: Everyone thinks Steve Harrington is lucky. His parents are either never home, or are too busy and just lets him do whatever he wants. But, there's a dark side to that kind of freedom. And it usually comes when he's alone, ready to snatch him up in the night like the Grim Reaper. No one seems to care, or even notice... No one except his arch nemesis, Billy Hargrove.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington, Eleven | Jane Hopper/Mike Wheeler, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Joyce Byers/Jim "Chief" Hopper, Maxine "Max" Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair
Comments: 37
Kudos: 163





	1. Pretty

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this story contains instances of child abuse, sexual abuse and drug abuse. If either of these trigger you, please click out. 
> 
> Other than that, please enjoy.

Neverland 

It doesn't take a genius to realize that Steve Harrington has been stressed lately. 

He hasn't been styling or even _combing_ his precious hair, his eyes look tired all the time and his outfits don't even coordinate with his shoes anymore. It's atrocious the way he stumbles through the hallways of Hawkins High, dopey and almost drunken, bumping into highly suspecting classmates and teachers. Some of them think he's got a terminal illness, but they don't even bother to ask him about it. Others think he's been doing drugs which, doesn't seem too crazy on the scale of speculation. And a mere one percent- which included Dustin and his dweeb friends, thought that he was becoming a zombie. 

Of course, the truth was never as clean cut or pretty as everyone expected it to be. But that was Steve's own story to either tell or keep close to his heart. For now, he'd just stick to bumping into disgruntled folks in the hallway. 

"Hey- _watch it Harrington._ " 

He's startled out of his daze by a harsh shove from none other than Billy Hargrove. The blonde boy glares at him for a millisecond before smirking haughtily, one hand hanging on to the messenger bag on his shoulder. 

"Rough night there princess?" 

Steve levels a withering glare at him from under his lashes, trying to take a step past him. 

"Leave me alone," he mutters, voice sounding hoarse and strained. 

Billy licks his lips in that signature sleazy fashion, "Well geez, who pissed in your cereal this morning pretty boy?" 

Steve doesn't even grant him the satisfaction of a response, and instead turns to head the other way. Too bad he bumps right into Tommy Hagan and the rest of goons from his jock squad. 

"Well well well, who do we have here?" 

Steve freezes and immediately takes a step back, clearly distressed at being cornered. He can feel the panic set in and steadily start to rise within his chest. If Tommy, Brad and Chris don't get out of his face he's gonna scream. He rounds on Billy and notices the boy glaring at Tommy and his squad. 

"Get the fuck outta here Hagan. This whole trying to be cool thing doesn't work for you." 

Tommy scoffs, "Whatever Hargrove. See you two on the court." 

Steve exhales, noticeably relieved. Then he returns to the regularly scheduled programme; glaring at Billy with cold eyes. 

Billy snorts and clicks his tongue, "Alright Harrington, lemme get outta your hair which, by the way, is a goddamn mess." 

"Whatever," Steve mumbles, storming past the blonde. 

He feels super dumb when Billy yells after him, _"Your t-shirt's inside out by the way!"_

He hates the way Billy's always right. 

.......................

The basketball court smells of fresh wax and brand new equipment. It's a wonder that the school could afford such luxuries given that their funding had switched hands only recently. 

But that was besides the point. 

Steve's passing thoughts get all muddled and broken up by a rough shove to his side that leaves him gasping for air. He hisses in pain and turns to find Tommy next to him, stupid smirk on his stupid freckled face. 

"Wake up Harrington! Game's about to start." 

Steve ignores him pointedly, in favour of nursing his side. It sends painful spasms throughout his body, throbbing with every turn. Tommy had set it afire with his side tackle, making it hard to breathe. He knew of the bruising there, hated the way the ugly purple and blue marred his usually lily white skin. God, he's been getting so many bruises lately, it made it difficult to get through certain public situations, like right now. 

"Harrington, skins." 

Coach Bell had just called his name, and as his luck would have it, he was on team skins. But that wouldn't have worked out. Not when his body bore several questionable bruises that would have had the respective authorities called in immediately. No. He had to be clothed. 

"Um, Coach can I play shirts?" he asks the man quietly, hoping that the others wouldn't overhear his request. So far, no one seems to be within listening range. 

Coach Bell frowns, clipboard in hand. "What's the matter kid?" 

Steve shakes his head as if to alleviate any kind of concern or alarm. "I just... have a mild fever and the chill is kinda not helping right now..." 

He's not sure how or why but Bell buys it and switches his position on the court. "Hargrove, you're on skins. Switch." 

Steve purposely keeps his gaze away from the others but he can still hear Billy confidently joking that the Universe won't allow him to cover up his muscles. 

Bell's whistle echoes through the gym, "Alright ladies let's go!" 

....................

It's a great task to even shower after practice. 

Steve waits impatiently for all of the guys to take their turn in the communal stalls, chewing nervously on his lip as he hides out in one of the restroom cubicles. He keeps his feet perched atop the toilet seat every time he hears someone enter. They most likely wouldn't have even noticed he was missing- and he should've just hopped in his car and went home to shower but, seventh period was right after practice and his Dad was at home anyway. Having to go home and face a man like John Harrington was not something any sane person would wish for. Especially when the man was all focused on his company and the flock of new investors from almost every state in America on his doorstep. 

Yeah, there was no way he'd be going there any time soon as his house was practically a campaign office. 

It takes about twenty to thirty minutes for the locker room to clear out. Steve hurries to the communal stalls and strips down. The shower is surprisingly warm, needles of water hammering into his body, undoing some of the muscles pulled taut after a hard practice. The tension leaves his back and neck momentarily, but then comes back when the pressure of the shower head hits his tender bruises. He hisses slightly, wincing at how raw his skin feels. His eyes close for less than a couple seconds before he forces them open again, too afraid of what he might see in his mind. 

He didn't want to think about it. 

_I'm not gonna think about it._

After rinsing the soap out of his hair, he rushes to the changing room and dries off, slipping on some high-waisted blue jeans and a pastel blue, long-sleeved sweater. He towels his hair as much as he can to get the moisture out, hating how dead the strands look in the mirror. He sighs, chest hollow at his pallid reflection and the dead eyes that stare back sadly at him. God, he was really gonna have to stop attending classes looking like a zombie on dope. His teachers and classmates were noticing and that's the last thing he wanted. They'd ask too many questions and then assume he's doing stupid shit and then call his Dad and... 

_...well it all would go downhill from there._

After a long pause, he roots around in his gym bag for the bottle of hairspray he hasn't touched in a while. He bites his lip, pulling out a comb, attempting to style his hair for the first time in weeks. The brunette locks obey the smooth gliding of his hands, falling into place like soldiers in a line. For some reason, the familiar act makes him smile- not a big one, just a tiny twitch of the corner of his lips. He takes a deep breath and suddenly feels a little bit lighter. _God knows he's hadn't had a reason to smile these past few weeks._

The slam of the locker room door jolts him from his tiny moment of privacy and he bites his lip nervously as the shadow of someone crosses the threshold. He glances up and- 

"The hell are you still doing in here Harrington?" 

_Billy Hargrove._

The California boy folds his arms with a smirk, leaning against the doorway with his hip cocked to one side. His blue eyes are electric- the way they always are when it comes to taunting and teasing Steve. His tongue does its signature waggling, wetting his red lips, making them glisten. Steve shrinks a little at such a bold and heated stare, not exactly afraid of Billy but cautious. After their fight at the Byers house, they hadn't really spoken to each other, but the kids had told him that he'd been trying to do better, especially by Max. So Steve had taken the changes with a grain of salt. 

He was never confrontational anyway. All of that fire had died when he'd dropped Tommy and Carol. 

"I was..." he starts but bites his tongue when he realizes that he's still holding the Farah Fawcett spray in his hands. His cheeks burn with embarrassment as he quickly tosses it into his gym bag. "Nothing." 

"Didn't look like nothin' to me. Who you getting all dolled up for?" Billy snorts, finally entering the room and making a beeline for his locker. It's two lockers away from Steve's. 

Steve stands there awkwardly, chewing on his lower lip, eyes lowered. He starts packing up his gym bag. "No one," he murmurs quietly. 

Billy snorts and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. "Coulda fooled me."

Steve frowns. "What?" 

Billy shrugs nonchalantly, "You've been walking the school halls looking like something out of a horror movie for the past few days and now suddenly you're primping after hours in the gym locker room, and you've got on this pretty little sweater." 

Steve tries his best to hide the blush adorning his pale face but Billy sees it anyway and it makes his smirk even wider. "Oh you _are_ dressing up for someone, aren't you? Who is it? Huh? Is it Laurie? Or Stacy- y'know I heard her say she'd fuck you even if you looked like you were three seconds away from dying." 

Steve rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "I'm not dressing up for anyone. Just- ...I just..." 

And while he struggled to find the words for his lame excuse, Billy notices a darkened patch of skin exposed by the hitched up hem of Steve's pastel sweater. Under the dim lighting of the locker room it's difficult to tell if it's a tattoo or a bruise, but if Billy's suspicions about Steve are right, then he'd bet it was a bruise, because pretty boy was too pretty and too soft to get a tattoo. 

"How'd you get that?" 

Steve halts in his ramblings and asks, "Get what?" 

_"That,"_ Billy repeats, gesturing to the raised hem of his sweater. 

Steve glances down and almost blacks out. He hastily yanks the hem down and grits his teeth in annoyance. Billy was _not_ supposed to see that. 

He growls defensively, "It's- it's none of your damn business Hargrove. Leave me alone." 

He shoves his bag into his locker and attempts to storm out of the room but Billy sticks his arm out to bar the door way. Steve halts abruptly and growls at the blonde, though it's not as threatening as he'd hoped it would sound. Billy grins, face to face with him, so close that he can smell the woodsy cologne on the blonde's neck. He hates the way his tummy clenches up uncomfortably. 

"Hey, hey. Why so snappy?" 

Steve probably looks like he's pouting instead of staring daggers into Billy but it's all he can do not to break down and cry in that moment. He's been on a hairpin trigger lately, under terrible circumstances- he'd scream if Billy taunted him one more goddamn time. God, he needed to get away from this. 

"It's okay princess, chill. M'only kidding." 

Steve waits for the inevitable snarky comment or sleazy pick up line that Billy usually just casually threw his way when baiting him. 

But then Billy removes his hand and boops him on the nose ever so lightly, grinning at him with a single word as he walks out of the room with a cocky swagger; 

_"Pretty."_


	2. Cherry Pie, Coffee and Other Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy usually spends his time alone at Benny's after fighting with Neil. He's never seen Harrington there before- so early in the morning anyway. And besides, what in the world could the pretty boy possibly be sad about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: mentions of forced/non-con/drunk sex, loss of virginity, forced oral sex and child abuse. If any of these are your triggers, please click out.

Cherry Pie, Coffee and Other Things 

Neil had been on a rampage again. 

That was the only way Billy could explain being at Benny's Burgers at quarter past seven in the morning. 

Something had pissed him off at work, so, of course, he'd come home furious, ready to take it out on Billy. Dinner was awful and had ended before it even began, with Neil shoving him and cussing him out. So in typical teenage fashion, he'd stomped all the way back to his room, forgoing dinner and filling the hunger in his stomach with a cigarette instead. He'd go to a diner or something after Neil left for work early next morning. 

And so he did. 

He shrugs on his denim jacket as the chill of the early morning breeze rushes over him. The sun is barely up yet, still a pale golden shaft of light in between thick, white clouds. He keeps his eyes down to hide the bruising on his cheek, so that's why he doesn't make out the familiar BMW parked several spots away from his Camaro. 

"Mornin' honey," Jenny the waitress greets, a bit too cheerfully for such an ungodly hour. 

But Billy's a gentleman to older women so he offers her his best smile under the circumstances and goes searching for a secluded table. There's old man Earl at the first table, drinking his coffee and reading the paper. And a pair of officers from the Police Department, Callahan and Powell. He does his best not to roll his eyes at them, looking further down the aisle to see none other than Steve Harrington himself, seated at the last table in the diner. 

The boy is practically swaddled in a thick coat that's all rich, navy blue and gold buttons. The collar is popped all the way over his ears, shielding him from the chill of the morning air. His hair isn't styled or combed, but fluffy and ruffled as if he'd just rolled out of bed and ended up in the diner. His eyes are dark and heavily lidded giving the impression that he'd just woken up maybe an hour ago. And somehow sleepy and soft Steve Harrington _does things_ to Billy. He grimaces at whatever those feelings were and heads over to join the brunette. There's nothing on the table in front of him so Billy guesses he'd just arrived and hadn't ordered yet. 

"Y'know, I'm surprised I missed your car out there." 

Steve startles at the sound of his voice, glaring up at him with tired eyes. Then he groans and slumps back into his curled up position, forehead on his arms. He mutters something but it's all muffled and incoherent. Billy grins at him as he slides into the opposite seat.

"Lookin' rough there Harrington. Fun night?" 

Steve grunts, noncommittal. 

Billy shrugs, browsing the paper menu. "You order yet?" 

Steve looks up at that and nods. "Cherry pie and a coffee."

For some reason that makes Billy smile- and not like a smirk or a smartass grin but a really genuine smile. "Of course you'd get the cherry pie." 

Steve purses his lips and sends Billy an unimpressed look. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

Billy shrugs distractedly, flagging down a waitress instead of answering. 

"What're you having sweetie?" 

"Coffee, black. Thanks darling." 

When she leaves, another waitress comes with Steve's pie and coffee. Billy forces himself not to make a face at the amount of cream and sugar in there. _Jesus Christ,_ was everything about Steve Harrington sugar, spice and everything nice? _Of course_ he'd have a cherry pie for breakfast, and of course he'd take his coffee with a shit ton of sugar and cream. He probably didn't kiss before being taken to dinner first as well, Billy thinks wryly. 

"How can you even drink that?" Steve questions, his face screwed up in disgust as the waitress sets Billy's coffee down. 

"Hey," Billy mutters defensively, "I didn't say shit about your cream and sugar princess." 

Steve snorts at that and slides his plate over. "Want a bite?" 

For some stupid fucking reason the question causes Billy to short circuit, his lips twitching as he holds back a sleazy grin. 

"Sure, why not?" 

Steve blushes when Billy digs into the golden brown crust, and then proceeds to eat with the same fork Steve had just put his mouth on. He looks away when Billy unknowingly makes a show of licking the red cherry filling from his lips. It was typical Billy Hargrove behaviour, he'd be dumb to make something more out of it. 

"Sweet." the blonde boy comments, sliding the plate back over to him. Steve sips his coffee, pointedly ignoring the fact that Billy kept the fork. He opts instead for a change in conversation. 

"What happened to your face?" 

The minute Billy's expression turns sour he _knows_ he deserves it. He has no right to ask that question, ...especially when he'd refused to answer the boy last week in the gym locker room. 

"It's none of your damn business." 

He idly dips a finger into his half-eaten pie and licks at the sickeningly sweet filling. "Sorry," he murmurs, eyes locked firmly onto his coffee. 

Billy sighs, shaking his head. "Forget it pretty boy. If you're not gonna tell me about your scars, I don't owe you shit." 

"Never said you did," Steve shoots back hotly, digging a finger into his pie again. Billy scoffs, taking a big gulp of his bitter drink, washing down the sweetness of the pie. An uncomfortable yet quiet silence manifests between them for a moment, both boys lost deep in thought. It's as of they're trying to explain their traumas to each other without actually ever saying real words. Billy seems to have more control of his emotions though, whereas Steve is having trouble keeping the wetness from his eyes. He shrinks even further into the safety of his coat, eyes downcast. The waitress approaches them for refills, breaking the thick tension between them. 

"You boys good?" she asks, then turns to Steve and says, "Everything alright honey?" 

Steve looks panicked for a quick second so Billy hastily steps in. "He's fine, just getting a little sugar rush." 

The waitress smiles knowingly, "I'll get you a glass of water." 

When she leaves, Steve sighs heavily, relieved. "Thanks." 

Billy shrugs, draining his cup of its contents. "Why are you even here? Ass o' clock in the morning by yourself? It's Saturday, don't you have to go chaperone the kids or something?" 

Steve almost smiles, thinking about the kids, but then he drops it and shakes his head. "Nah. Jonathan and Nancy are on chaperoning duty today. Figured they'd give me a break." 

"A break for what?" 

"I've been busy... helping my Dad with his work for the past few weeks. He's entertaining a bunch of CEOs and company reps for the week. Looking for a partner or something." 

Billy whistles low. "So tough week huh? God, I can't imagine a house full of stuffy, uptight business penguins in over-tight suits and fancy shoes." 

Steve nods but then shrugs as if to say, _'what can I do about it?'_ "Well, they mostly stay in the guest house, but dinner can be overbearing." 

Billy grunts in response, definitely not able to relate in any way. "And what do you do? Does Daddy's boy help organize papers and all that corporate shit?" 

Steve's face darkens and he glares hard at his clasped hands in his lap. "Yeah, shit like that." 

He's too ashamed to tell Hargrove that he's _far more useless_ than playing the role of his father's glorified receptionist. Too ashamed to admit that his father uses him as eye candy for his potential business investors. That used to be his mom's job, but then she got a little older as the years went by and had developed a slight drinking problem. And by then, Steve had grown beautifully into her feminine features, with his big, innocent doe-eyes and his soft, flowing hair. He was pale like her too, milky skin perfect for blushing whenever the men complimented him and gave him too-long hugs and too-intimate cheek kisses. 

_God, what would people say if they knew the kind of things he had to do to earn his father's approval?_

What would the kids think of him? What would Nance think? Would she still see him as the bullshit boyfriend who couldn't be strong enough to keep her satisfied? And if he opened his mouth right now... _what would Billy think of him?_

Would he be disgusted that he even looked in his direction? Would he be happy that he'd beaten the crap out of Steve that day for harbouring his little step sister and a bunch of other kids? Would he think of Steve as some sick fuck who loved the attention these rich men lavished upon him? 

Was he really some kind of sicko? 

_Is that why he's been religiously avoiding the kids these past few weeks?_

"Harrington-"

He startles out of his thoughts and stares blankly at the blonde boy who was just handing over a couple of dollars to the waitress. 

"You're welcome honey," she replies, smiling from ear to ear at something Billy had said to her. 

"I was gonna pay for that..." Steve states dumbly, but Billy brushes him off with a gesture. 

"It's fine Harrington." 

"Billy-" 

The blonde perks up a bit and raises a brow at him. "Billy? Since when did I become more than just the eternally damned _'Hargrove'_?" 

Steve rolls his eyes as he subconsciously finishes the remaining piece of pie. Billy had taken care of most of it which he was utterly grateful for. 

"Whatever _Hargrove._ Lemme pay you back." 

Billy rolls his eyes, getting up to leave. Steve follows hastily behind him, "I can pay you back for th-"

Billy lets the door of the diner swing back, almost smacking Steve square in the face. He fights with it for a few seconds before finally getting it open, jogging to catch up with Billy in the parking lot. 

"Billy-"

"Jesus Christ Harrington, I didn't take you for the nagging type." 

Steve pauses, frowning hard, confused. "What?" 

"You don't have to pay me back, it's fine." Billy repeats, a little firmer this time. 

Steve sighs, unable to keep his curiosity at bay. "Why are you being so nice?" 

Billy screws up his face, "What? It's just a few bucks-"

"No," Steve shakes his head. "I'm not talking about that. Why're you being nice to me? And the kids? Lucas said you apologized... and Dustin said you take them to the arcade sometimes. Nancy even told me how you helped her with some assignment." 

Billy scoffs and leans up against his car, arms folded with his keys in hand. By now the sun had risen a bit more and the light that bathes him sets his golden hair on fire. Steve tries not to think about how good he looks and instead stares at his chest. 

"You got a problem with me being the nice guy Harrington?" 

"No." 

Billy sighs, swinging open his car door. "Well then what's the problem?" 

Steve bites his lip. "It's just weird," he confesses. 

That makes Billy cackle and he winks at Steve as he gets in behind the wheel. "Gotta come up with a better excuse than that pretty boy. And I'm not a nice guy. Just because I'm picking up your tab and chaperoning the kids once in a while doesn't suddenly make me your best friend. See you around." 

And with that, the Camaro pulls off into the road and leaves behind a cloud of dust and smoke. 

Steve wishes he could be that reckless again. 

.........................

When he returns home, the house is thankfully devoid of any kind of suits and he doesn't hear his Dad's voice booming from the dining hall, so that's a plus. He sighs in relief and hurries up to his bedroom, shucking off his coat, anticipating a warm, soothing bath. There was something he hadn't told Billy at the diner- but then again, _he hadn't planned on telling anyone anyway._ Billy had just assumed he was taking a break from the kids and his Dad... which he was, but, initially his run to the diner had been an escape from Harry Kennedy. 

Harry was one of his Dad's business partners' son, Mr. Frederick Kennedy. They owned a bunch of high-end villas back in California and ran those along with his family for most of the year. The Kennedys mostly offered his Dad's auditing company luxury services for all the members and clients involved. And they were long time friends according to his Dad. Steve had spent an entire summer with Harry when he was younger- fourteen or so, he couldn't quite recall. Harry had been twenty-six then, but they were the best of friends. They'd bonded over the fact that their Dads were CEOs who were always carting them around for business meetings and fancy cocktail parties. 

Only, Harry wasn't just some friend he'd made over one summer. No. He'd become more than that after they'd both gotten drunk one night at a fancy charity event hosted by Mr. Kennedy. Steve had been over the top _wasted_ while Harry had just been tipsy. And maybe the event had been so traumatizing that he'd forgotten the details, but all he could remember was that he'd lost his virginity that night, to a boy, no- ...a _man,_ twelve years his senior. It's like Harry had held some kind of control over him since then. 

_"Hey."_

Steve damn near jumps out of his skin, mouth agape with his coat in hand as Harry steps out of his room. _Right where he'd left him last night._ He can still feel the tell-tale soreness between his legs where the man had fucked into him until he came untouched. Their Dads had been right downstairs, talking business and reminiscing on old vacation memories from Cabo, Greece and Paris. God, Steve had felt so fucking disgusted with himself after that, thinking of how easy he had to be to just fall into bed with someone he hadn't seen in years. _And a thirty year old man at that._

"Where'd you run off to? I woke up and you were gone." 

Steve blinks dumbly at the question, staring at Harry's sandy brown hair and pale blue eyes. He's in a rumpled white t-shirt and black jeans, the same clothes he'd worn last night. 

"Um... I went for a drive..." he murmurs, backing up until he's against the wall as the man approaches him stealthily, like a predator stalking prey. He's so much bigger than Steve, his large, almost footballer-esque build towering over Steve's bird-like frame. He brings his arm up, large hand cradling the boy's face with a practiced intimacy that only adults usually expressed. He kisses Steve on the lips gently, his other hand sliding down the brunette's chest, pressing against the bruising on his side. 

"Sorry for this. I know I can get rough sometimes," he whispers, kissing Steve's ear before going lower to suck more bruises into his neck. And Steve _hates_ the way his body reacts to the touches, becoming aroused when he didn't want anything to do with Harry. The man had been a mistake, all those years ago, come back to haunt him whenever his Dad brought business home. He whimpers, head against the wall as the older man ravages his neck. 

"Where's your Dad?" he demands, one hand moving lower and lower until it's cupping the brunette between the legs. 

"I- unhh, I dunno..." Steve gasps, hardening in his jeans as Harry slots a leg in between his thighs. "He'll be back in a minute though..." he breathes out quickly, hands pushing back against Harry's chest. 

A mischievous smirk glints off of the older man's lips at Steve's words and he quickly fumbles to undo the zipper in his jeans. "Well then I guess we better make that minute count baby." 

With a rough shove he forces Steve to his knees, thick cock brushing against the boy's pale cheek. It's warm and heavy on his skin, the wet tip demanding entry at his lips. He tries his best to bed down the arousal that suddenly courses through his body, but fails miserably. He doesn't want this- _is revolted by it,_ but it's almost as if his body had been conditioned to accept and enjoy the experience. His lips part reluctantly, eyes sliding closed as Harry slides his thick length into his mouth. His tongue instantly tastes the warm saltiness of the flesh, throat closing up as he swallows deeper. 

"Good boy," the man moans with a shudder that goes all the way up his thighs, making him buck into the boy's mouth. Steve chokes and his nails dig into Harry's skin in warning. The man doesn't seem to appreciate his resistance so he growls, "I want your hands behind your back." 

Steve obeys for the mere fact that he just wants this to be over and holds onto his wrists tightly. Harry grips him by the hair then and starts fucking his face earnest. He chokes, thick strings of precum and spit dripping from his lips, down his chin and onto his t-shirt. His eyes are running like faucets, burning with the wetness and the shame. For a fleeting second, his conversation with Billy earlier fills his head and he zones out. 

He remembers the warmth filling the cold, hollow space in his chest when the boy had approached with his killer smile and dazzling blue eyes. The smell of warm cherry pie and bitter coffee stirred up some kind of yearning deep inside him that he couldn't explain. Maybe it was the idea of Billy that excited him. Maybe it was the boy's carefree attitude and his sense of cocky but charismatic entitlement that called to the part of Steve that had been stolen and suppressed by all the men who'd laid their fingers on him. 

Sure, Harry had been the only one to actually fuck him, but the others had used him in other, more degrading ways. They'd force him to suck them off or sometimes they'd suck him off- whatever fit their fancies. He'd never told his Dad because, well, _who the fuck would?_ John had just expected him to serve the men drinks and appetizers during the conferences and meetings, and to sit in the room and look pretty while they pondered their contracts. He'd never forced Steve to actually engage them in sexual activities. So, it wasn't his Dad's fault... _it was his._

He guesses that the part of him that was completely enamoured with Hargrove, was the fact that he didn't take shit from anyone around him and lived free as a freaking bird compared to Steve. It was beautiful to look at the blonde just being his obnoxious self. And it was Steve's ultimate attempt at living vicariously through the rebel without a cause. 

"Fuck I'm gonna blow!" Harry grunts from above him, fucking his mouth harder, grip on his hair awfully tight. He whines, desperate to get his mouth off the man's cock before he cums but Harry keeps him on it until he finally does, thick, salty ropes sliding down his throat, making him sick to his stomach. His face screws up in disgust as the man thrusts a few more times in his mouth before pulling off. He gasps for air, leaning forward whilst still on his hands and knees. 

"Your goddamn mouth is so good baby," Harry drawls out, lazily tucking himself back into his jeans. He notices Steve lurching forward as if to spit and he grabs the boy by the hair. 

"Hey hey, what'd I tell you last time? You swallow. Got it? Swallow my fucking cum like the good boy I know you are." 

Steve cries out as he's smacked across the face, hard. He swallows obediently, sticking his tongue out to show that he'd done the right thing, just like Harry always wants. He can feel the cum sliding down his throat, bitter like he'd swallowed acid. God, he hates this. Harry grips him by the jaw and snarls in his face, "You ever do that again, and the punishment is gonna be worse. You hear me?" 

"Yeah- _yes, yes_ -" he sobs, receiving another swift backhand to the left cheek. Harry's ring cuts him on the lip but he doesn't even have time to notice as the sound of the door opening downstairs alerts them both to his father's arrival. Harry straightens up and releases his grip, letting him crash to the floor, weak and disoriented. He leaves the room without another word. 

Steve spends the rest of the morning hunched over the toilet, heaving all the contents of his stomach into the bowl, while Harry and his Dad have polite conversation downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it was crude and cruel. But I'm trying to make this as authentic as possible. ALSO, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE COMMENTS AND LOVE AND SUPPORT. ❤❤❤ your comments were so encouraging, please don't hesitate to tell me if you liked it or not.


	3. Engaged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve spends some much needed time with the kids. Billy's caught at a crossroads until he isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for my tardiness, I've been preparing for my thesis seminar presentation. But I loved this story and you guys have really been giving me the best support. Please enjoy.

Engaged

"Hello?" 

_"Hey buddy, did'ya miss me?"_

Steve force's himself not to roll his eyes fondly at the person on the other end of the phone. 

"Hey Dustin."

"Hey!" the boy responds, too cheerfully for eight AM on a Friday morning.

"What's up?" 

"Uhh, so, I was wondering if you'd take us to the arcade after school today." 

"That's all?" Steve drawls, snuggling deeper into his blankets, the telephone cord wrapping haphazardly around his neck. 

There's a pause on Dustin's end before he replies, "Yeah man, that's it. C'mon, say yes please? We haven't seen you in ages and I know you've got that thing with your Dad but-" 

"Hey, hey Henderson, chill man, I'll take you." 

Steve can feel a happy blush spread across his face as Dustin squeals in excitement, the loud sound nearly bursting his ear drum. God, it had been so long since he'd hung out with the kids. Self-inflicted dramatics of course, as he'd realized that maybe being in the presence of the kids would be all sorts of wrong considering all the dark and dirty things he got up to on a weekly basis. It was his only way of protecting them from all of that messed up shit. 

Dustin's chipper voice cuts through his morbid thoughts, providing much relief as he promised that Steve would be included in the games later that evening. 

"I'm serious, Lucas and I have already hatched a plan to stop Mike from harassing you for a shot on Pac-Man." 

Steve snorts, "And what is this plan about now?" 

Dustin chuckles giddily, "Well, we plan to tell him that El got grounded by Hopper and that she can't see him again. It'll be hilarious watching the horror mess his stupid face up." 

"You're diabolical," Steve yawns, frowning hard at the knock on his door. "Hey, I gotta go, see you later." 

"Adios!" 

He fights with himself and the telephone cord for a minute or two, trying to get untangled. "Just a minute!"

Then the voice on the other side of the door says, _"Stephen, your father has requested your presence in the main office."_

Steve rolls his eyes at the full pronunciation of his name, throwing the blankets off the bed in a tiny tantrum. His Dad's personal servant for the day, Mitchell, knocks on the door again, this time more insistently. 

"Stephen-" 

"God- yes! I hear you, I'll be down in a minute Mitch, thank you!" he yells, sliding off his bed like a reluctant pancake to go get ready. 

*

When he finally makes it to the office, dressed for school in a dark green sweater and his favorite blue jeans, John Harrington greets him with a cold, stiff "morning." He smiles nervously, always polite in the man's intimidating presence. 

"Morning Dad," he replies quietly, sitting awkwardly opposite the man at his desk. To anyone else, it would've felt distant and impersonal, like a business meeting in a posh and unattainably exquisite office. But to Steve, who'd grown up at a distance from his busy parents, had become immune to such frigid temperaments. This was a privilege, to even be invited to his father's office, much less to be seated directly opposite the stiff man. 

_And John Harrington was a stiff man._

Steve couldn't remember the last time he saw his father genuinely smile, unless it had been because of a business deal gone right. Other than that, he wore a sour frown on his stern face, green eyes pale and condescending. The only part of him that really looked like Steve was his sharp jawline. He had a nose that was perfect for sneering at his son whenever he was gravely disappointed in him or whenever he disapproved of Steve's so-called _idiotic_ life choices. His hair was a dark brown, slightly less auburn than Steve's own brunette strands and greying at the temples. His resemblance to Steve was pale however, in comparison to the kid's mother. 

Judy Harrington was a tall, slender woman with flowing brunette locks and a brilliant smile. Her eyes were round and dark brown- something she'd passed on to Steve. He'd also inherited her softer, feminine features like the long lashes, long legs and pale, milky skin that was covered in random beauty marks. Yeah, anyone who knew the Harrington matriarch would realize that Steve was more his mother's son than his father's. 

Now, sitting in front of his old man, he thinks wistfully of her, wondering if she's enjoying her business trip to Strasbourg.

"Breakfast is served," Mitchell, the servant announces, helping the chef bring in several dishes on a silver tray. Steve raises an eyebrow at his father who barely looks up from his ledger. 

"Thank you Mitchell," the man responds, sounding robotic. Mitchell takes his leave and the room plunges into awkward silence again. 

"Breakfast in your office? That's a first," Steve comments, amused as he sorts through his options of chocolate drizzled waffles, pancakes and toast and bacon. John 'hmphs' but doesn't say more, too focused on his write-up. 

"When's Mom coming back from Strasbourg?" he asks, biting into a fluffy pancake slathered in butter and syrup. John's expression strains for a moment, his jaw tense at being interrupted. But then he sighs, drops his pen down onto the table and fixes himself a cup of hot coffee, black with one sugar. 

"Your mother will return whenever she wants to. Her business trip was taxing, so she decided to spend an extra week in France." 

"Oh," Steve mutters dumbly, chewing slower now, waffle and chocolate sliding down his throat uncomfortably. 

"Now, for the reason I called you in here. Meetings have been extended into next week. There was a delay and Mr. Jamison couldn't make it, but he- and a few others, are willing to visit on Monday. I hope that you will make the necessary steps to accommodate this change in plans." 

Steve stops eating altogether, sitting dejectedly in his chair. He'd been so ready for this to be over. Today was Friday, and yesterday he'd seen the last of Harry Kennedy. The man had fucked Steve and then left a few hours later with his father, after pledging over a million dollars to his father's company. It was only supposed to be one week. 

"It was only supposed to be one week," he repeats out loud, hating how petulant he sounded. He could already feel his upper lip begin to tremble. 

John regards him disapprovingly. "You know how these things are Stephen."

"Yes but-"

"And you know how important these meetings are."

"Yeah I know, but-"

"These investments help keep my company on top of the entire industry. And they are what provides for this high-profile lifestyle _you_ lead. I'd say this is a small sacrifice, wouldn't you?" 

Steve bites his tongue, hating the way his father always seemed to make things sound like a goddamn business deal. And it was the man's specialty it seemed, making Steve feel like he owed his parents for even existing. As if it were some great privilege that he'd even inherited the Harrington name. 

"Do you know Mr. Collins?" 

John seems genuinely thrown off by the question. He takes a healthy drink of coffee before answering. 

"Mr. Ryan Collins," he states matter-of-factly. "Yes, of course I know him. He's been a loyal partner at the firm for years." 

Steve shakes his head, "No, I mean like, ...like do you _really_ know him?" 

John rolls his eyes, like a bitchy frat boy. "I just said he's been with the company for years." 

Steve winces at the impatience in the man's tone but soldiers on through it. "Is he married?" 

John nods, folding his arms sternly. "Has been for twenty years. What's your point Stephen? Can't make a proper argument without the rationale." 

He trips over a million words in his head before he finds the proper ones to enunciate his mind. "Has he ever had an affair?" 

John's face screws up in annoyance now. "I will not tolerate that kind of talk about the men I work with!"

 _"I just think he's gross that's all!"_ Steve blurts out, eyes shifting down, staring hard at his intertwined fingers in his lap. 

John grunts, humming knowingly under his breath as he fixes himself in his chair. He levels his green eyes at his son, cold and reptilian. "Now Stephen, please don't tell me that this is another one of your _childish_ attempts at getting attention."

Steve makes a face, "What?" 

"Let me hazard a guess. Mr. Collins looked at you funny, is that it?"

Steve's chest collapses on itself as he sits there, regretting ever opening his stupid mouth. 

"Or maybe he had a hand on your shoulder for too long, is _that_ it?"

Steve shakes his head, eyes glistening with tears. 

"Did he kiss you? Hm? Did he stare down the neck of your very ugly sweater that grandma Betty gave to you last Christmas? Seriously though, as a side note, you've got to stop wearing that damn sweater." 

Steve grits his teeth, feeling utterly humiliated and miserable. He tried his best to hide his teary eyes from John, who right in that moment looked _alive._ Sure, he loved his company more than his own family but if there was one thing that surpassed that love, it was the very easy task of tearing Steve down and making him feel worthless, like the scum beneath his shoes. If it were a sport, John Harrington would come in first place every time. 

"Mr. Collins is one of the most respected men in Los Angeles. Do you really think he would risk his platinum reputation for the likes of some insignificant teenager with a lurid imagination?" 

Steve withers under the man's harsh glare, practically melting into his chair. 

John continues, "Y'know what? They _have_ been interested in you."

Steve freezes, body gone cold. _What?_

"Some of them have talked to me about offering you an internship at their firms. They want to give you a well-rounded experience before heading off to college. They want to help you Stephen, as a favour to me of course. Mr. Kennedy's son Harry even said he'd take you on as an assistant. You'll earn a decent wage and Harry will show you the ropes, get you started in the business. They all have the best intentions, but of course, it would come across as inappropriate in that messed up head of yours. You want the attention, no- you _love_ the attention."

 _It's not that at all!_ he wants to scream, but the fight dies inside him. 

"These men have been my corporate partners for years Stephen. I'm not going to sully their good names just to get you your fifteen minutes of fame, do you hear me?"

He replies with a soft, "Yes sir."

"Now, I have a dinner to attend tonight at the country club. There's money on the table for pizza or whatever. I won't return until Sunday. Ensure that this place is presentable and appropriate for Mr. Jamison's arrival on Monday. You can leave now, school starts in twenty minutes." 

Steve takes his leave, feeling as if breakfast with his Dad was a meeting that had just been adjourned. He's grateful that Dustin had called earlier... at least some people wanted him around. 

...................

Billy grits his teeth, punching at the wall at the back of the school. His knuckles are a bloody mess of torn skin and exposed flesh. But he doesn't care. Doesn't stop until he starts to feel something and by then, both his fists are glistening with red. 

"Fucking bastard," he snarls, blood hot in his veins as he thinks about Neil's dumb fucking face. 

He'd gotten into another fight with his father- _surprise surprise._ What pissed Billy off was the fact that it had been over something so fucking stupid. Apparently good ol' William had been a little too mouthy at breakfast and had declined to take Max to the arcade after school. Max herself had reassured Neil that she would get a ride from Lucas, but no. Billy wasn't allowed to deny Neil's request- well, _demand_ really. Sure, he'd told the man to shove it, but fucking hell did _everything_ have to end in a fist fight with the man?! 

He spends the rest of the day at school brooding, totally growling and sneering at anyone who passed him in the halls. Tommy and his goons steered clear of him and even Tina and Bridget- two of the popular girls that Billy has slept with- had made themselves scarce. The boy was a ticking time bomb on a hairpin trigger and his stony expression made it clear that he'd wanted to be left alone. 

_Of course, Steve didn't get the memo._

He spots Billy brooding in his Camaro during lunch and makes a beeline for the boy. The blonde glares at him as he opens the door and gets in the passenger side, brown paper bag in hand. 

"Harrington what the f-"

"Here," Steve interrupts, shoving the bag towards Billy's chest. Billy rips it out of his hand and roughly opens the bag to view the contents. 

"The fuck is all this?" 

Steve rolls his eyes, chewing on his lip nervously. "It's a pack of Marlboro Reds, two cans of beer, a burger and fries." 

Billy nods maniacally, "Yeah I can see that. What the fuck is it for?" 

Steve hmphs, running a hand through his hair. "I told you I'd pay you back for the cherry pie and coffee." 

Billy sets the bag down between them and sighs heavily, both hands on the steering wheel. "I told you it wasn't a big deal you retard." 

"And I didn't want to be in your debt," Steve responds evenly, eyeing the oozing cut on Billy's brow. 

Billy makes a face at him and remarks, "God you're so damaged."

"Takes one to know one," Steve shoots back, gesturing at Billy's messed up face. 

Billy exhales slowly, gritting his teeth. "Get the fuck out of my car." 

Steve shrugs, "Y'know I've got bandages." 

"I don't need fucking bandages." 

"They're pink though. My mom bought them in some fancy store in LA when she visited last month." 

"Harrington I don't need your fucking girly-ass bandages-"

Steve reaches out despite Billy's threats and wipes just below his brow with a thumb. The pad of his finger comes away stained with blood, dark and shiny. Billy hates the way he flinched at Harrington's touch, eyes staring stonily at the bloodstain on Steve's thumb. Then he watches as the brunette wipes it off on his dark jeans and digs into his messenger bag for his stupid bandages. While he did that, Billy just sat there dumbstruck, skin tingling where Steve had touched him, eyes on the pretty boy. 

Steve looked beautiful today- _there was no other way to say it._ He had on the most form-fitting blue jeans that cupped his behind perfectly. And wore a dark red, long-sleeved sweater that contrasted beautifully with his pale skin. The neck was a bit stretched and exposed the thin, delicate line of his neck with just a hint of his bony clavicle. He wore a simple black-banned wristwatch and his hair was actually combed and styled today. 

_What a fucking preppy pretty boy,_ Billy thinks just as Steve brandishes a baby pink bandage proudly. 

"Aha! Got it. Here you go," he announces, offering Billy the thing. 

Billy forces himself not to roll his eyes as he snatches the bandage out of Steve's hand. He ignores the brunette, checking his reflection in the rearview mirror to make sure he was placing the bandage in the correct spot. He can feel Steve's doe-eyes on him, watching his every move anxiously. It was annoying. 

"There," he says when he's done. "I put on your stupid bandage, now get out of my car." 

Steve grins, taking a handful of Billy's fries before stepping out into the parking lot. 

Billy curses under his breath, "Hey that's mine asshole!" 

......................

"Let's engage!" 

The entire squadron of prepubescent teens all run to Dig Dug, Dustin at the lead because he's got a score to settle. Steve follows far behind, hands in the pockets of his zipped-up, grey lightweight jacket. Keith grimaces at him, eating from a super-sized bag of corn chips. 

"The hell are you doing here Harrington? Again." 

Steve rolls his eyes and steps out of his way to stand by his kids. "I'm chaperoning the kids. Again." 

"Y'know, it would make sense that you're chaperoning these kids." 

"Why?" Steve mumbles, not in the mood for Keith's bullshit humour. 

"Because," the stereotypical comic book nerd says, " _you're_ a douchebag, _they're_ smaller douchebags. It's like they're tiny Steve Harringtons, running around this town, mucking it up with their stupid hair and shit attitudes." 

"You wish you had even half of Steve's cool points Keith." Dustin interrupts, stepping in between Steve and Keith as if to part a fight. There would be no fighting of course, because Steve didn't do that shit anymore. 

"Yeah Keith, leave him alone. Go spread your gross acne disease somewhere else," Mike taunts, making Steve choke on spit as he struggles to keep in his amusement. That seems to do the trick because Keith retreats promptly, grousing about how he hates little kids and wishes they would get taken by a serial killer. 

"God, what an idiot," Lucas snickers, heading over to Dragon's Lair. 

"Thanks for having my back guys," Steve says, grinning as Dustin pats him on the back. 

"You know we're here for you right?" 

That comes out way more sincere than Steve was expecting and it makes his chest spasm uncomfortably. He glances down at his shoes, feeling the kid's eyes on him, watching his every move. Will, Lucas and Mike are occupied with the game, thankfully. 

"Yeah man, I know," he mutters as casually as he can. 

Dustin regards him quietly, eyes downcast. "I just wanted you to know that. We're all busy with stupid shit sometimes and I know you've been stressed about shit lately, so..." 

Steve offers him a tiny smile, "Yeah man, I mean- it's all good. It's nothing I can't handle. And besides, I don't wanna bring you guys down with my shit y'know? It's just stupid shit anyway." 

Dustin shakes his head, not falling for Steve's attempt to make things light. "I mean it Steve. Our party isn't only a democracy, it's a lifeline. If a member of our party needs help, it's our duty and obligation to help that member." 

And for some stupid reason that makes Steve's eyes wet with tears threatening to fall, but he holds it in and nods stiffly instead. Thankfully, Max enters the arcade and the tense, emotionally charged atmosphere cuts almost instantly. 

"Hey Mad Max," Lucas grins, eyes sparkling at the redhead approaching them. Maxine, their newest member and the one who'd saved Steve from her brother, grins and waves at them. 

"Hey guys. Hey Steve." 

"Hey Ma-"

_"What're you doing here pretty boy?"_

They all look behind Max to see her crazy step-brother walking up to them, big grin on his face for no reason. He's obviously dressed for a date, in black denim jeans and a black shirt that was unbuttoned to show off his impressive chest. Over that was a black leather jacket with a silver zipper and a popped collar. God, some girl was a winner tonight. Steve imagined that he'd be taking her to some fancy diner out of town where he'd get them fries and burgers and one milkshake to share in between them. Like some kind of romantic movie or whatever. 

"What's up losers?" 

Mike rolls his eyes, "Be gone Billy. You're literally killing the fun." 

Lucas snickers, "Yeah dude, go be douchey somewhere else." 

"Guys, let's go play some more," Will suggests, ever the peacemaker. The kids leave them standing there opposite each other, nothing but awkwardness between them. Steve notices the absence of a band-aid where Billy's cut had been and decides to make that a talking point. 

"Do- ...d'you need another band-aid? I've got more in the car-"

"It's fine," Billy answers curtly, though not aggressively. He seems just as awkward as Steve. 

"Okay..." the brunette replies, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. "You going on a date?" 

Billy narrows his eyes at him before nodding. "Yeah, actually. Shelley from uh... Chem." 

_Shelley Chesney huh,_ Steve thinks, biting his lip idly. He remembers her "borrowing" his pencils all throughout the 9th grade. Carol had later explained to him that it had all been a tactic for flirting with him. Steve, being the oblivious idiot he was back then, had simply never made a move to reciprocate her interests and so, their relationship got nowhere. But apparently she'd gotten somewhere with Hargrove, because now, she was going on a fancy date with the resident bad-boy. 

"Oh, that's cool." Steve says after a long pause, looking everywhere but directly at Billy. 

"You uh, you watching the kids all night?" 

Steve has no idea why Billy has to make it sound so awkward but, he answers anyway. "Yeah, Nancy and Jonathan are having like a movie night or something. So I thought I'd be doing them a favour." 

Billy nods, "So what's the back-up plan here? Or are you gonna stay in here all night with those dweebs? They play for _hours_ you know." 

Steve chuckles, "Yeah I know. It's cool, I actually don't have a back up plan but, I do think I'll have something to occupy myself with."

"Oh?" 

"Yeah," he confirms, leading Billy over to the shelves with all the prizes behind the counter. He points at a large stuffed bunny, a light brown with white floppy ears, big eyes and cute, pudgy paws. The tag on it says, 'two hundred tickets'. Billy raises a brow at that. 

"You want that." he states, unimpressed. 

Steve shrugs, hands going back into his pockets. "I like bunnies and it's cute."

"So you're gonna take all night just to get two hundred tickets?" 

"Well- ...look, you're all talk now but I wanna see you get two hundred tickets in a few hours. It's harder than it looks, most of these games are rigged." 

"All I hear are excuses Harrington," Billy teases, blue eyes sparkling and electric. He wags his tongue and Steve bites his lip, both boys uncomfortably aware of some kind of tension fizzling and crackling in the charged air between them. Then Steve catches himself and takes a quick step back, apologetic. 

"Anyway, you have that date tonight, wouldn't want you to miss it. You can one-up me some other time I guess." 

Billy pauses, glancing behind them at the entrance to the arcade where he can see his car parked through the glass doors. He's terribly indecisive, tongue caught between his teeth and his mind stalling. _What the fuck was he even doing?_ He had a hot date tonight, with a pretty girl who wanted nothing more than to get in his pants. He was gonna drive to her house and pick her up, then they'd drive til they reached the end of the state, get their fill at the posh diners there and then bone in the back of his car. _It wasn't rocket science-_ any guy would've chosen a night with Shelley over spending time with Steve Harrington and his dumbass kids. 

_So why the fuck was he still here?_

Why am I still here? 

_I just asked you that,_ his stupid subconscious states dryly. 

Shut up.

 _You shut up._

"Billy? ...you okay?" 

He turns back to see Steve standing there, hands wringing nervously together with a concerned look on his pretty face. He's biting his lower lip again, then alternating between doing that and folding in his upper lip. It's almost cute, how uncertain he looks. His brown, doe-eyes are big and worried, as if he wondered if he'd said the wrong thing. He doesn't quite meet Billy's gaze but he tries his best to seem calm and Billy appreciates it though he doesn't know why. 

Fuck it.

He ignores his car and walks over to the Pac-Man machine. 

"Watch me win two hundred tickets in less than an hour," he smirks, winking at the confused brunette. 

"Billy, Shelley's gonna be mad," he chuckles, shaking his head as Billy flags down Keith and slaps him with a ten. 

"She'll sulk in her room for sure," the blonde agrees, clearly amused. "But I'm sure she'll forgive me. Can't stay mad at this good-lookin mug forever." 

Steve rolls his eyes just as Keith returns with a handful of tokens. Billy snatches them up and immediately attacks the joystick while Steve looks on with a stupid giddy smile frozen on his face. 

* 

Three hours later, he's dropping the kids home, a huge stuffed bunny in the passenger seat of his car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drop a kudos, leave a comment, let me know if you liked and what you want to see more of! ❤ Sam_Haine

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Leave a comment, drop a kudos. Lemme know if I should continue this. ❤ much love, Sam Haine


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